Plural Possessives
by Kataoi
Summary: Rory stays awake one night, musing his future, but he has to remember he shares it with someone else. After so many years of thinking as one, thinking for the family is a bit of a change.


There were a lot of things running on his mind. If it wasn't for the time traveling, then it would be his nursing duties, and when that was gone, there was always his role as the husband to his wife. Well, that one always applied and wasn't about to be something he would give up without a fight.

However, the role of _father_ seemed like a far-off dream. In fact, it had been a dream – a physically manifested dream that ended up with him dead before he awoke – but in the end, it wasn't real. This time, though, he wasn't sure if it was a falsehood or not.

When he heard her voice speak when she thought he couldn't hear, his whole body had a reaction. His throat tightened, his lungs shorted, his heart skipped a beat. It simply made him _freeze_, for two adverse reactions: First was the confusion, the "really?" that seemed to pervade his everyday existence (the time traveling didn't help). But quickly second was the "why?" – why was he hearing the news secondary, why his wife didn't trust him to know, why she was _afraid_ of him to know.

In the end, it made sense. In the end, he had to bow out and say he understood. Really, he did. And _really_ in the end, he was relieved that she knew he was listening, that it wasn't a secret he was going to have to pretend not to know of (even if pregnancies were difficult to hide). It was just another facet that confirmed he had married the right one.

Rory knitted his fingers and pressed his thumbs together, sticking the tips between lips and staring over the horizon provided by his hands. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, just gazing, lost in his own thoughts.

Was he ready to be a dad? He brought up that dream again, the one with the ponytail-self (which had caused Amy to threaten him bodily harm should he himself ever decide to grow one in reality). The one of five years in the future, of him and his lovely, pregnant wife in their quaint little country home, the one where he was a doctor and wasn't playing sidekick to an alien with an odd taste in headwear. That had been his dream, right?

_His_ dream. Right.

'cause now, when he looked down and saw his sleeping wife, the one unburdened by his own musings, he remembered something. This wasn't _his_ life anymore. It was _theirs_. Yes, he would always remain his own individual self, always be Rory Williams, the meek but intelligent boy from Leadworth who grew up to be a bit more adventurous but always remaining the sensible one. He would always be reserved but able to call upon his courage for when it was needed.

But ever since June 26 of 2010, he was linked to someone else, someone who wasn't just his friend, but his wife, the person he would be the closest to. They would stay together through thick and thin, through the hard times and the fun times, and maybe, just maybe, add more to their two.

He had to remind himself. Not _his_. It could no longer just be _his_ dream. It had to be _theirs_, it had to be mutual. And, well, it _was_, he knew it. It had been phrased as one of those questions, the kind that were serious but not awkward, the kind that emphasized the gravity of the scenario and how it would change their lives.

Pressure was a horrible feeling. To be pressured meant the situation you were deciding wasn't being decided on your own feelings. It meant that someone else was in control, subtly manipulating your actions. Sometimes, he felt that way, just a little, when he looked at his current situation. In hindsight, it had been Amy that triggered all of it.

There was a brief flare of resentment, but just that – brief. He was angry about what she had done the night before their wedding. Then he himself got to see. He was taken away on an adventure in the impossible blue box, fighting vampire fish from space, swinging a broom as means of a sword, almost hitting his end – but not.

He couldn't lie. It wasn't really pressure; it was his own fascination and curiosity, his own quiet drive for adventure hungry for more. Secretly, he loved it. But when in the group, when amongst the trio that was the Doctor, Amy, and himself, he was the rationale one.

Which was okay. It was what he was good at.

Rory cocked an eyebrow as thoughts of the Time Lord entered his head. How would _he_ react to the whole situation? Well, when he had been told, he didn't, he just was concerned, then laughed…But really…

A baby aboard the TARDIS? Never mind a "child", the Doctor was enough of one to more than compensate. Honestly though, what would it be like? Would the ship create a nursery? Who would look after it? Him? He couldn't imagine Amy giving up adventure…except maybe for her own child.

_Their_ own child.

Plural possessives, he had to keep reminding himself. After twenty-some years of thinking as one, it was difficult to transition to thinking as a unit.

He really wanted to settle down. He really wanted to settle down with her. He really wanted to settle down with her and start a family. That's what _he_ really wanted.

But what did she want? What did _they_ want?

For now, it was the adventure. For now, it was the thrill. And probably most of all, it was being with their friend, the enigmatic, exuberant, exciting alien-man, the one who called himself the Doctor. He had made their relationship tighter, crashed their wedding, almost killed them on their honeymoon…

Ah well, two for three. Can't blame a man for trying.

Sometimes – oh heck, who was he kidding – most of the time, it felt like the three of them were already a family. They were an awkward and amazing trio of brains, beauty, and brilliance. They looked after each other, cared for one another, shared the highs of life and the lows of sadness.

They were one unit. They were a family.


End file.
